this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on April 4, 2006.
I could hear the familiar sounds of truncheons banging against shields. The anti-riot policemen had warned the crowd that they were moving to break up the rally. And that was the signal for us to disperse. Not because of fear, but because we were defenseless.
The warning gave us enough time to move to safer ground, behind the pedestrian railings near the Ayala-Paseo de Roxas intersection in Makati. We jeered at the police as they passed by, armed with Presidential Proclamation No. 1017. However, they did not seem to mind our taunts as they went after their favorite targets, the left-leaning organizations.
But as more of us gathered at the sidewalk denouncing the dispersal, the police turned their attention to us. “Eto na!” I thought.
Someone in our group said, “Pag nagkabakbakan na, wala nang Bill of Rights. Hindi ka na pwedeng makipag-argumento! (When violence erupts, the Bill of Rights is worth nothing. You cannot argue anymore).” Confronted with violence, I thought, lawyers are useless and irrelevant. Imagine yourself in the urban battlefields of Nazi-occupied Europe or the jungles of Vietnam. Your skills in law and argumentation are worthless when bullets start flying. On the other hand, doctors can treat the wounded; carpenters can build shelters for the weary troops, engineers can rebuild bridges to facilitate the transport of supplies; cooks can prepare meals; entertainers can lift up weary souls.
I’ve wanted to be a lawyer since I was 6 years old. My great grandfather was an esteemed trial lawyer, with offices at Escolta, Manila and Imus, Cavite. My grandfather was a lawyer for the common people and went on to serve in the Senate and the Department of Health. The tradition of having lawyers in the family skipped a generation. Now I am the only one among my relatives in the Philippines who wants to enter the legal profession.
My first love is not law, but politics. Before I knew what a lawyer was, I wanted to become president of the Philippines. But growing up in a political environment eventually led to a fascination with law. At a young age, I was convinced that taking up law was a prerequisite to election to public office. I should have listened to my relatives in the entertainment industry.
When my elders asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was always: to become president. But since I was growing up when Marcos was the dictator, I would qualify by adding, “Kaya lang baka magalit si Marcos! (The problem is, Marcos might get mad at me.)”
Marcos died before I entered high school. But I guess there was something more to my answer. Was the fear of Marcos very much ingrained in the subconscious of a child who lived under martial law? And is that fear being transplanted once again to our times?
After the impeachment court refused to open the second envelope in December 2000, many students and activists wore black as a statement of disgust. Our college community was preparing to join the protest rally at the Edsa Shrine when a high schoolmate dropped by our tambayan to pick up his girlfriend. Upon seeing many of us wearing black, he said, “Why are you in black? You are wasting your time. You are pathetic.”
I was enraged by his comment, but just kept quiet. He was wrong, I think.
When I entered law school, I planned on being active both on and off campus. I thought that with little effort, I would sail through my academics.
That was a laugh. I’ve never had as much fun as in law school, but the fun has been more than offset by difficulties and disappointments. I had to learn how to manage time efficiently and study effectively, what things to concede and what to fight for. I had to choose my battles in order to win.
As I move closer to my graduation, I look back and forward. I’ve absorbed as much education as I can from our school and the environment in which I have been immersed. I’m trying to equip myself for the challenges that will try to beat me down. I feel confident and insecure at the same time.
The bar exam is the biggest hurdle immediately ahead of me, but it’s after that I am sure when the real trouble begins. Where does one strike a balance between practicality and acting on one’s social awareness? How do you meet your needs while responding to the demands of citizenship. How do you begin? What battles can I fight at this point? Thinking about all this makes me feel helpless. Sometimes it can become a burden to have the kind of enlightenment that a law education gives.
After five years, I sometimes wonder if anything worthwhile resulted from our effort in 2001. I know a lot in me has changed, but many things around me have not. This is probably one of the reasons for my feelings of helplessness and frustration.
Today, I find myself fighting for the same causes I had fought for in 2001. At that time, the principles were simple: justice, truth, good governance. Now, all these have to be unearthed from a complex layer of lies, deceit, corruption, violence and uncertainty. The causes have not changed but fighting for them has become more complicated. Still the values remain the same: justice, truth and good governance. While the circumstances have changed, we have to continue fighting for what is right because some people are too arrogant and stubborn to have a change of heart.
Going back to my thoughts on war, I ask again if the lawyer is relevant. Of course. The lawyer is there to fulfill his primary function of rendering justice by promoting peace. Justice can only be carried out in an environment of peace and under the rule of law. But peace does not mean the absence of conflict. And there is so much fighting to be done.
I hope that our young men and women will continue to examine with critical eyes the issues confronting our nation. I know there is only so much that students and young people can do. However, we should not be frustrated. All our young deeds will bear fruit some time. There is hope.
